Pernatude

She dreams in pastel hues of baby blues,
white washed in nostalgia, long gone
by days, adrift in waves, washing 
and washing the shore.

I peer in deep, memories seep,
looking for some small sign,
like mind, turn of kind, to tell me
that I am not alone.

Original form, born re-born,
rolled smooth by the surge,
rounding my own curves,
beautiful like pearl.

Solitude resounds, quietly
bounds to welcome, as I
settle in, my own skin,
content at last with who I’ve become.

SJW